Prompted
by esama
Summary: Random prompts filled on Tumblr, to random fandoms. Harry Potter, Naruto, Final Fantasy 7, Hikaru no Go, Stargate, Temeraire and so on.
1. All or nothing, Naruto

Warnings: random drabbles to random fandoms, some slashy, some not, most ooc, some au, etc etc. In this one, Oiroke Naruto galore

_Anonymous: genderswap/ Naruto_  
**All or Nothing**

"Not my fault," Was the first thing Naruto said, as the Team Seven walked into the Hokage's office, after a week long mission out of the village. "Seriously. I had NOTHING to do with this."

"Uh," Sarutobi started, looking over the wholly altered team, trying to figure out something to say. He was fairly sure that the team had consisted of a _male_ jounin, two _male_ genin and one _female_ genin the last time he had seen it. And he was fairly sure he even knew more or less what those genins and one jounin looked like, more or less, and what he was seeing right now… wasn't it.

Naruto, in this form, was familiar, if a bit smaller than usually. The long pigtails were nearly legendary in Konoha, after the dozens of times Naruto had ran about the village with them – and without much anything else, really. He had clothing now, his usual orange jumper and head band and everything from his gear to his geta and even the scars on his face was same as always and if Sarutobi hadn't known better, he would've said that he, she, looked almost normal. Except for the pigtails, though. And the gender, which ad softened the boy's usual features into something… well, softer.

The black haired girl scowling at the world beside Naruto was somewhat similar, and somewhat different. Sasuke, Sarutobi was well aware, had inherited the usual features of an Uchiha and so even as a male he wasn't precisely masculine, as far as his facial features went. As a girl the boy was quite beautiful, if such a sentence could even be thought of. His hair wasn't quite as long as Naruto's, reaching only his mid back rather than his knees, but it was there, falling over the high collar of his turtle neck shirt, and though his clothing were more or less male, it was a girl's body in them.

The last of the three genins was perhaps the biggest surprise of them all. Sakura was about a inch taller than before, standing behind Naruto and Sasuke both, and hovering just a bit over them, with her – no, _his_ – pink hair cropped short, and her usual red over dress changed into a red shirt and trousers. She, he, seemed to be somewhere between mortification and embarrassed pleasure, as she, he, looked between Naruto and Sasuke.

"Um," Sarutobi started again, and then paused at the sight of Kakashi. At least he assumed it was Kakashi. He – _she_ – wore Kakashi's uniform, his mask, even had the headband crossing over _her_ forehead, slanting over one eye and hiding it from view. Except then there was the enormous waterfall was silver hair, falling in spikes and random curls across the shoulder pads of the vest, and the rather abundant cleavage, not to mention about the hips which made the jounin's pants look quite a bit too tight. Which was something of an accomplishment, considering how loose they were by design.

The Jounin that was most likely Kakashi smiled behind her cloth mask, her eye forming a happy bow, and Sarutobi leaned back. "Okay then," the Hokage said slowly. "How is this not your fault, Naruto?"

"I didn't make them try it," the blonde girl said, folding her arms with a harrumph. "It's their own fault they botched up the jutsu."

"We didn't botch it up, your jutsu is flawed!" the pink haired boy growled.

"It's not," the blonde girl answered, with another harrumph.

"It is," the black haired girl answered, pinched look about her pretty face. "You made the thing up without knowing first thing about jutsus, the seals are all bastardised and charka flow goes all wrong – how _you_ get it right it's anyone's guess when it _shouldn't_ be gotten right in the first place!"

"No, I get it right because I'm brilliant. You just suck," the blonde answered, looking away.

"So," Sarutobi said. "I gather Sasuke and Sakura decided to try the… Oiroke no jutsu." He gave Kakashi a look. "And they can't undo it. Is that about right?"

"More or less," the silver haired kunoichi answered, and even the voice as all different, gone from low and gravely to low and _sultry_. "I did try to undo it, but it turns out that the Oiroke no Jutsu isn't a genjutsu as first assumed, but a type of form manipulation. It creates a real physical alteration. What you see is actually what you get."

"Okay. And you figured this out by trying it yourself, I presume," Sarutobi asked, to which the kunoichi nodded. "And you can't turn back either, can you."

"That would be negative, sir," she said cheerfully, cocking her hips to the side and _presenting_ herself, in full Oiroke glory. "I have no idea how Naruto can go back and forth. I've been trying for four days now, with no success. The healers might have some idea, but at this point I highly doubt it. What we're dealing here is a whole new brand of ninjutsu."

"Huh," Sarutobi answered, looking between the Jounin and the gender bent students. Then, frowning, he turned to look at Naruto. "Why are you in a female form, Naruto? Shouldn't you be able to change back?"

"Solidarity," the girl answered with a shrug. "And bathing arrangements," he added, throwing a look at Sakura who flushed almost as pink as his hair.

"I see," Sarutobi answered, looking between them again, uncertain as to what to think about it, let alone _do_. "Well," he said after a while. "Did you at least complete mission?"

"It was more or less a success, but I fear we might've mentally traumatised just about every inhabitant of the village, sir," Kakashi answered.

"Okay. Go… sort this out, somewhere not here," Sarutobi said, waving them away. "I have paper work and... things to get to."

As they left, grumbling and nudging at each other, the Hokage shook his head. Maybe it was a curse of the number, but why, oh why did the Team Seven always have to be the weird one?

x

I occasionally when I'm bored or lack inspiration ask for prompts on Tumblr and then I write whatever happens to come to mind. I've done this enough many times that I figured that I'd start a new thing here on ffnet for the things I write for prompts. So, random stuff here.

**This isn't a invitation to prompt me. I only do this very occasionally and_ only_ on tumblr and only when I feel like it. Which is pretty rarely.**


	2. Curse, Hikaru no Go

Warnings: Hikaru no Go, if it wasn't quite so happy go lucky

_everfascinated:(Mind Control) in Hikaru no Go?__  
_**Curse**

"I'm sorry," Sai whispered to the boy walking ahead of him, whistling with his hands crossed behind his neck. Of course, Hikaru couldn't hear him, wasn't aware of him in any way, but still… "I am so, _so_ sorry," the ghost repeated, miserable.

It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm – though Sai did not feel the warmth, he could see how much Hikaru enjoyed it and could, in a way, enjoy it through the boy. The wind, the light, the liveliness. It was a different world he had entered so very recently, full of machinery the like of which he hadn't been able to even imagine in Torajiro's time, but which now seemed to fill every street, every house, even the sky, in their whirring, gleaming splendour. A future like of which he couldn't have even imagined, was all around him. Like it had been in Torajiro's time, but better, and worse. Greater and stranger and foreign and… open.

Uneasy, Sai looked away from a passing metal vehicle and to his young host. Hikaru was idly glancing around himself, walking aimlessly without any goal – which was, of course, Sai's fault. He had felt crowded in Hikaru's little room, and had wished to see the outside world a bit closer.

"I didn't want this," the ghost murmured, bowing his head.

Hikaru didn't answer, of course not, and with a sigh, Sai looked away. On their own his eyes read the signs on the buildings around them, wondering what some of the words he read meant – they seemed nonsensical, maybe they were foreign? And then, almost unnoticeable, he noticed characters he knew. "Oh," he breathed, stopping without meaning to as his heart skipped a beat.

Hikaru stopped too and turned to look where he was looking. While the boy stood there, just starting at the signs blankly, the significance meaning nothing to him. Sai wavered for a while between his selfishness and his guilt, and the selfishness won – just like it had won with Torajiro. Hikaru stepped forward and then started making way towards the sign that read, _Go salon_, with Sai unhappily heading after him.

A little confused, Hikaru lead him into the building and then into some sort of establishment where there were several tables, all loaded with Gobans. His gaze longingly resting on the Gobans, Sai only bit his lower lip in guilt as Hikaru rummaged through his pocket for some sort of entry fee and then the boy was heading for the nearest Goban, as Sai's urge to play, to touch the Goban, the stones, to just _play_ got better of both of them.

The ghost wanted to play, so, so much. It was all he had, all he knew, all he wanted. Just someone, anyone, it didn't even matter who or how good, Sai just wanted to play, so much… "Hey," Hikaru called confusedly, glancing around. "Anyone here want to play me?"

"I'll play you," another boy said, coming from near the back. He smiled, seeming blind to Hikaru's confusion and of course, completely unknowing of Sai's guilt. "Come on, we can play over here," he offered, motioning to the back and Hikaru followed, Sai following closely behind.

He hadn't wanted this ever to happen again. He had avoided it to the bitter end, tried as hard as he could, trying to surround his Goban is as much unease and unpleasantness as he could, in attempt to ward off anyone who might fall into his curse. And for a long while it had seemed to work, for many, many years he had been left alone.

And then there had been Hikaru and Sai… had been freed, only to be imprisoned to the boy. The boy, who didn't know he was there, and who, unable to help himself, now acted on Sai's behalf, his puppet body in the living world, unknowing and no doubt unwilling if he would have every known and, of course, unable to do anything about it.

"I am so, so very sorry," Sai whispered wretchedly, as the boys sat down with a Goban between them, and then, after a shuddering breath, called out the first move.

x

Another tumblr prompt. more to come...

**This isn't a invitation to prompt me. I only do this very occasionally and_ only_ on tumblr and only when I feel like it. Which is pretty rarely.**


	3. Thirty Days, Harry Potter and Sherlock

Warnings: Harry is Harry and John is confused and unlucky

_luleeta: Harry with any Sherlock character, pretending to be married._  
**Thirty Days**

"It won't be for longer than maybe a month," Harry sighed apologetically, while John looked around himself in one of the guestrooms, taking in the ancient looking four poster bed, the chest at the foot of the bed, the antique cabinet. "After that, we can get a divorce and you can go your merry way again."

"Yeah, I got that," the muggle man said, lowering his duffle bag onto the bed and turning to him. "It just seems like bit of a over kill, you know? Not to mention this is really bloody weird way to thank someone for saving their lives."

"I know, trust me, I really know. And I wouldn't be doing this if… if there was an alternative. But that's how things are, um, here," Harry said, making a motion with his hand, trying to encompass all of the wizarding world and their stupid ideology in it. And it really was a weird way to say thanks to someone, to offer them a fake marriage, but… "You have to admit it though, this is better than having your mind wiped."

"Well, maybe. Can't really say, never got my mind wiped before. But then I suppose eve if I had been, it wouldn't be as if it would help, seeing that I wouldn't remember," John answered and then hesitated. "I… haven't been mind wiped before, right?"

"No," Harry answered with a wry smile. "If you had been, you would already have a file at the ministry and you don't. So you're clear."

The muggle man nodded, rubbing at his neck and then gingerly sitting down on the side of the bed, turning to look at him. "So, um. I get that only the close family members of you… people get to know about all of this stuff, but won't it seem a bit suspect if, after a month of marriage, we just up and get divorce? Even if it isn't _exactly_ marriage, it still should ring some alarm bells, shouldn't it?"

"Not around here. Wizards and logic don't always go hand in hand. Month of marriage to a _muggle_ like yourself is practically a forever in wizarding terms," Harry grimaced. "If anything, people will be urging me to divorce you sooner, but I'm trying not to look like completely arse so. A month. It ought to be enough for us to separate somewhat respectfully. And after that, you can legally know whatever about magic and the ministry won't have legal leg to stand on, if they want to Obliviate you."

The muggle man eyed him and then shook his head. "Okay. After walking corpses and all that, I guess this isn't that strange," he muttered, and ran a hand over his face. "But what will I _do_ during this month?" he asked then, sounding partially irritated, partially just tired. "Can I _go_ anywhere, do anything –?"

"Of _course_ you can. You're not a prisoner, for Merlin's sake, you're free to go where ever you like. But, you know, for appearance's sake it would be best if you at least slept here every now ands then," Harry said awkwardly, wincing a bit. Had he made it seem like John couldn't leave? Yikes. "Just, if you want to go around in the magical world, you need to be somewhat careful."

"Why?" John asked, suspicious. "Because of the way your people view muggles?"

"Well, yes, but no, not in this case. If you were married to anyone else, then yeah, you being a muggle might be an issue, but in this case…" Harry grimaced. "I'm… something of a known figure and, uh, I've been a bachelor for a while and, well. There might be some… interest towards you. I'll try to get people to leave you alone as much as much as I can, but, well."

"And this… interest, it's from people you know? Friends, family?" John asked slowly.

"Ah, well. Maybe. Mostly it's the reporters and ministry officials I'm worried about," Harry admitted with a sigh and then shrugged at the man's blank stared. "I'm something of a celebrity."

"Oh," John said, and just stared at him.

"Yeah. So, um," Harry shrugged again. "How about I'll leave you to get comfortable? You can move about the mansion however you like, of course. There's bathrooms on every level and the kitchen ought to be stocked pretty full up, you can eat anything you like ad any time, though I do have a able house elf too and…" he winced at the man's slow, disbelieving blink. "Yeah. You'll get used to it. Call me if you need anything or if you have any questions, okay?"

As he made awkward, hasty retreat, he could hear the muggle man sighing behind him, muttering something that sounded rather like _Damn it, Sherlock_, but he might've gotten it all wrong.

x

Another tumblr prompt. more to come...

**This isn't a invitation to prompt me. I only do this very occasionally and_ only_ on tumblr and only when I feel like it. Which is pretty rarely.**


	4. Innocence, Sherlock

Warnings: I do Mycroft injustice.

_tiangodoftetris: Moriarty (or Mycroft) gets a baby. After several tries of dumping he/she, he/she always miraculously finds his/her way back._  
**Innocence**

Mycroft enjoyed his luxuries when ever he could get them, and one of those luxuries were solitude. To that end, he had specifically bought an estate with high walls, and a fence that could be locked and secured and, if need be, booby trapped against any and all intruders. It had cost him more than a small fortune, real-estate prices being what they were in greater London area, but it had been well worth it.

Or so he had though, up until he had woken up, in the middle of the night after what felt like only hour or so of sleeping, to high pitched wails coming from what he very quickly deducted was his _porch_. If he could have persuaded himself to believe that the noise was merely his imagination, or coming from elsewhere, he would have, but he knew better. Judging by the force of the sound, the direction, and knowing how far – and how well walled – the street was from his estate, there could be only one conclusion.

When he ventured down stairs and to his front door, he was extremely displeased to find that it was exactly as he had thought. Someone had climbed over the fence, dropped their what looked like six month old child on his door steps, and then made their escape.

"Disgusting," he murmured, eying the child, and took out his mobile, hitting the speed dial. That someone would not just bother him in this manner, but do it in the middle of the night, and on this modern era was… disgusting. Orphanages, child social services, hell, _help lines_ were invented for a very good reason and someone drops a child on _his_ porch.

"Anthea, if you would be so kind, please rouse some competent social worker and have them come and fetch the baby some fool dropped on my steps, and kindly do it as soon as possible," he said as a way of greeting.

"Sir?" his assistant asked. "someone dropped a baby… on your door steps?"

"Yes," Mycroft agreed, putting as much of his displeasure in his voice as he could manage.

"I will have someone come over at once. Except, sir, you do realise it is November, right now, yes?" the woman asked.

"Yes, I am well aware of the current date, and even the time which I would like to point out is rather unpleasantly _late_," Mycroft said, rolling his eyes. "What of it?"

"You can't leave the baby on the porch, sir," she answered calmly.

"Excuse me?"

"It is November, near the end of November at that, and your porch has a stone floor. You cannot leave the baby lying there," Anthea said. "Just lift the child inside, lie it down on your couch perhaps. I will have someone come pick it up as soon as possible."

"You must be joking," Mycroft sneered, but she had already hung up, leaving him alone with his phone, and the still wailing baby.

For a while Mycroft did nothing, fighting the unease and displeasure and then, after a while, the nervousness. He had never in his life handled children, not even when Sherlock had been young – their mother had never required his help, thank heavens, and Mycroft had been allowed to concentrate onto his own projects. He had never considered it anything more than one more proof that sentimentality was a useless waste of one's efforts.

Except now, it left him wholly in dark about how to go about this… venture.

"Well," he said to the child, who kept on wailing. "Can't say much about the wisdom of whoever left you here." Though he could see why they had chosen his house – it was rather fine, after all, and obviously belonged to someone wealthy, and such must've seemed like likely candidate for such idiocy. But the previous caregiver could have – should have – given some consideration as to how the baby would be cared for.

The baby let out a particularly piercing wail, and with a uneasy sniff, Mycroft put his phone away and then crouched down, then kneeled because this seemed like something he needed as good a balance as he was going to get. Tentatively he tried to worm his fingers under the little child, who turned out to be a bit heavier than he had assumed, not to mention very firmly planted on the very chilly stone steps. Nudging and wiggling, Mycroft got some purchase on the child, enough to get his fingers beneath it's back, but when he started to lift, the child wiggled and trashed, and very nearly banged it's head onto the stone.

Haste, more than any instinct or even deeper sense saved the child from injury, as Mycroft hurried lifted the child up, putting shifting one of his hand beneath the baby's head. Once that step had been passed, the rest seemed to go a bit easier, and with fluidness that surprised him, Mycroft rested the child against his chest, where the infant, with somewhat surprised cry, settled, still sniffling and crying but with a different tone.

Looking Down, Mycroft found the child twisting the fabric of his pyjama top. "It is very expensive, I'll have you know, please refrain from drooling on it too badly," he said, and pulled the door shut, awkwardly carrying the child to the nearest soft surface. The sooner he laid the thing down, the safer the silk would be.

When he started to put the child down, however, it let out another piercing shriek, and latched onto his shirt with all of it's infant might. With a grimace, Mycroft tried to untangle the baby's tiny hands from the fabric, all the while supporting the child, which turned into impossible endeavour as he couldn't do one task without failing at the other, and even with the couch cushions just there, he didn't quite feel like dropping a baby was the right thing to do.

The baby sniffled at him, as if sensing that Mycroft had given up the fight as folly, and then proceeded to drag the label of the man's shirt into his mouth. "Ugh. This is precisely why I never had children, and why I never will," Mycroft grumbled, staring at the infant's mouth in morbid fascination and wondering just how badly the silk would be ruined. The child stared back, sniffling once and then letting out a cooing noise around the now soggy piece of fabric.

It was going to be a long, long while, waiting or the social workers.

What he didn't know, was that it would turn into a long day and longer week, when it would turn out that there was more than one reason why the baby had been dropped on his porch, rather than any of the other porches of other wealthy houses in the neighbourhood.

x

Another tumblr prompt. These are all pretty short, just fyi

**This isn't a invitation to prompt me. I only do this very occasionally and_ only_ on tumblr and only when I feel like it. Which is pretty rarely.**


	5. Unwanted, Temeraire

Warnings: Laurence is Laurence and Tharkay is amused. Spoilers maybe?

_elynight: (accidental baby acquisition) Fandom: Temeraire_  
**Unwanted**

"Sir?" Roland asked quietly. "Sir, there is a problem, we, uh… found. In one of the crates Temeraire's carrying."

"A problem?" Laurence asked with a frown, laying down the harness strap he had been oiling. All their gear had been taking quite a beating lately, both in China with it's not quite English-weather and not quite gentile behaviour, and then in the last day or so, as they had been flying towards the inland. With the deserts still ahead of them, maintenance was essential.

"What sort of problem?" he asked, standing up. "Is there damage to the crates?"

"Ah, no. it's… I think you should see it for yourself," she said, and then led him – by hand, of all things – towards the area where the ground crew had laid down the belly netting. There was a crowd of Temeraire's officers around whatever the _problem_ was and as Laurence approached the surprisingly tense and silence group, he got an extremely uneasy feeling about what it might be.

And then he heard it – a soft, unmistakeable cry of a human infant.

And there it was, tucked in one of the crates filled with some of their new purchases – silk mostly. A black haired, obviously oriental baby, coddled in light blue linen wrap, kicking its feet against the cloth as it wrung its hands about in the pile of clothing, tucked in middle of it all. How on earth had the infant not gotten completely knocked about during the flight, or the packing and un packing, was anyone's guess – not to mention about the fact that it had obviously been locked away in the crate, with what Laurence could only assume was very little air…

"Good lord," was all he could say, making his whole crew and other spectators turn to look at him, some of them as pale and horrified as he was, others red, few green and some – like their guide – quite amused.

"I must offer you my congratulations, captain," Tharkay offered with a mild smile. "It is quite the lovely child. I did not know you had one."

"Oh dear lord," Laurence murmured faintly and crouched down beside the crate. "Does, does anyone know however it got here?"

"Well, uh, back in the harbour we had some of the local people helping us pack some of the more valuable things away," Granby admitted, coming closer uneasily. "The silk, the china. Someone must've snuck the baby in when the crates were being closed."

"And we're sure this was done on purpose – someone did not just… lose their child in the packing?" Laurence asked faintly, the word sounding ludicrous even to him.

"Judging by the way the baby is tucked into the crate, I would say it was quite very deliberate," Tharkay commented idly, leaning in and taking out something from the crate. A ceramic bottle, which he opened and sniffed at. "They were even considerate enough to pack the baby away with supplies, it seems." He said, closing the bottle again. "It is goat's milk," he explained.

"But why?" Laurence asked, his mind unwilling to turn, as he looked between the infant child and the guide who seemed to take some sort of perverse pleasure in the whole situation. "Why ever would anyone do this? To a baby? In this manner?"

"There are any number of reasons. Poverty and opportunity raising to my mind first and foremost," Tharkay answered, careless as he dropped the milk bottle among the silk swaddling the child. "And your dragon is a _Celestial_. What a better berth for an unwanted child, but on the back of such a noble creature? Or that is, I imagine, what they might have thought, when leaving the child in your tender care."

"Oh, good lord," Laurence repeated, feeling faint. Then, feeling the stares of his crews and the weight of the child's presence, he steeled himself. "Well, we might obviously head back, take the child back to the port, if not to whoever abandoned them, then to the port officials, they are better equipped to care for it…"

"We must take what back to the port, Laurence?" a voice asked over head, and Laurence felt a little as if all blood in him had suddenly ran dry, as Temeraire peered in. "But… my, what _is_ that?" the dragon asked in utter fascination. "Laurence, it is so _small_! Is that a human? What is it doing on my silk?"

Helpless, Laurence looked up to the dragon, then down to the baby, then around in the crowd, knowing fully well that the moment Temeraire figured out that someone had _left_ the baby in one of _his_ crates, there would be no getting rid of the child. The moment Temeraire would begin to consider the infant _his_…

"Captain," Tharkay said idly and sniffed the air. "Whatever you decide to do, I would suggest you do it quickly. I believe the child is very near ruining your silk irreplaceably."

x

This one was fun.

**This isn't a invitation to prompt me. I only do this very occasionally and_ only_ on tumblr and only when I feel like it. Which is pretty rarely.**


	6. Nothing New, SG1 and Harry Potter

Warnings: Manboobs are mentioned, in horribly literal fashion.

_fictionfromfact: genderswap for either Harry or O'Neil (who meet for the first time) or bodyswap between Harry and O'Neil. or some Stargate character._  
**Nothing New**

"You know, if I were a bit younger, I'd probably appreciate this a whole lot more," Jack commented idly, while peering down his shirt collar. Consider his age, they weren't half bad, but then being rather recent they – unlike the rest of him – hadn't been there to endure the rather numerous years of… time and it's effects. Like aging. Or sagging. "Now it just seems weird, though," he commented, poking at his chest. Perky.

The young man across the room from him coughed like he was choking on the air he was breathing. "I can imagine," he said, and Jack glanced up, to see the kid going through rather hilarious shades of red.

"Not that I don't appreciate the… uniqueness of the situation," Jack added, and glanced down again. Better to concentrate on the perkiness. That kept him from thinking about the invisible knife that had rummaged through his boy bits and left him bereft. Yeah, bereft was a perfect word for the occasion. "But I've gone through various levels of weird, and this… this is _weird_."

"Yeah, I got that," the kid agreed faintly.

"Any chance of undoing this anytime soon?" Jack asked, and released the collar of his shirt. "Preferably now?"

"Well," the kid shrugged. "You did sort of get experimental potion all over you. I'm not sure if they've yet figured out an antidote for something that wasn't supposed to be tested on humans just yet."

"Well, ain't that just dandy," Jack muttered, and, unable to help himself, cupped his chest. One would've thought that his would be bigger, but he had to grant that there was something about a _nice good handful_ too. Two handfuls even. "What is it with scientists inventing these weird, stupid things and then not bothering to figure out how to reverse them. Hey, I know, let's create a horrible transformation thingymajig for fun! And of course we won't need an off switch, after all, it's not like anyone could ever run into this thing by accident."

"Well, you more like rammed into it – and do you have to do that?" the kid asked somewhat plaintively, looking away. "It is very distracting."

"My man boobs get you all hot and bothered?" Jack asked idly, fascinated by the shades of colour the kid was shuffling through. From red to green to white, in ten seconds flat. Impressive.

"No, it is just _weird_," the kid answered, looking away with a wild look about his eyes.

"That's what I've been saying all along," Jack pointed out and shrugged, but lowered his hands – since they weren't apparently going anywhere… "So, who are you anyway?" he asked and looked around more or less for the first time – though honestly, who could blame him for getting distracted.

"My name is Harry Potter, I'm an Auror and I'm here to watch over you while the investigation about how you ended up in Department of Mysteries is carried out," the kid sighed, running a hand over his face and then looking at him. "Which you did how, exactly?"

"How I ended up in the _what_?" Jack asked, shifting a bit where he sat on the bed – and yeah, definite invisible snipping had happened. Damn it.

"Department of Mysteries. That's where this happened," the kid, Potter, said, motioning at him. "That's where we found you, after you passed out."

"Uhhuh," Jack answered and thought about it, folding his arms – and wasn't that an interesting feeling. Looking down, he flexed his biceps, and then did the same with his pectorals. Squish, squish. "Well," he said, eying the interesting greases in his shirt the squishing caused. "I honestly have no idea. I don't even know what this mysterious department is." Squish, squish. "The way I figure it was probably some useless piece of alien technology which didn't even work properly. It usually is."

"Alien technology," the kid asked slowly, giving him a look like he was a lunatic.

"Well, yeah. Duh," Jack said and pointed at his chest. "Proof."

"You're like that because of a potion, not technology," Potter said flatly.

"Yes, an evil stupid alien potion."

"Noo," the kid disagreed, still looking at him weirdly. "A magic potion."

Jack looked up at that. "A what now?"

x

I'm sure most would make it harry, but this just seemed wonderfully cracky.

**This isn't a invitation to prompt me. I only do this very occasionally and_ only_ on tumblr and only when I feel like it. Which is pretty rarely.**


	7. And baby makes five, Final Fantasy 7

Warnings: OOCness and general crackyness.

_bluebloodburning: Cloud and Sephiroth (not necessarily romantically or sexually), accidental baby acquisition._  
**And baby makes five**

"Hojo has gone insane," Sephiroth announced as he entered the joint offices of the three commanders – one of whom he, unfortunately enough, was.

"Again?" Genesis asked from where he was leafing through his copy of the LOVELESS. "That's what, third time of this month? Though at this point I'm not sure if he can go insane at all – or any more than he already is," he paused and stroked a gloved finger over one page. "Or did he go _more_ insane than usually?"

Rolling his eyes, Angeal looked up to the silver haired SOLDIER. "What is it this time?" he asked sympathetically, knowing perfectly who got to experience the brunt of Hojo's bouts of increased insanity.

"I'm not sure I can say," Sephiroth said with a grimace which was somewhere between a frustrated scowl and somewhat mad grin. "But don't worry, you'll see _it_ soon enough for yourself. The… what's-his-name is bringing _it_ here soon."

"What?" Genesis asked, peering over his book. "Who is bringing what?"

"I don't know, I didn't catch his name," Sephiroth answered with a frustrated wave of his hand while he threw himself on one of the long couches which sat just beneath the windows. "I was too busy trying to run away from Hojo's crazy babbling. He was seriously creeping me out."

"Well, he must've, if it drives you to use a word like that," Angeal said with a confused blink and changed looks with Genesis. "But, just so we're clear, what ever _it_ is, it doesn't, I don't know… have tentacles or multiple arms or anything, or is likely to eat anyone?" he asked. Knowing Hojo, no one could put it pass anything his laboratories produced.

"Does it secrete poisonous gas; do I need to get the masks?" Genesis asked, closing his book with a frown.

"Probably from time to time," Sephiroth groaned, lying down on his back and covering his eyes with an arm. "It was also wailing like a fire alarm the last time I saw, so you might as well get the earplugs too. And a cage. Maybe some alcohol."

"Okay, now I _know_ this is bad," Genesis muttered. "Except I don't know if this is _making Sephiroth exaggerate everything because he's pissed off_ bad or actually _gas masks, ear plugs, cages, and alcohol_ bad."

Angeal just shrugged awkwardly and was about to suggest that they get some supplies, just in case, when the door hissed open. They both looked up, reaching for their swords in case whatever it was really did have tentacles, when they saw the young trooper who entered the office. Young, spiky haired, wide eyed trooper. Who, just so happened, was carrying in his arms what looked like a human baby.

A _silver haired_ human baby.

"Ooh," Angeal and Genesis breathed in unison, while Sephiroth let out a groan and turned his back to the office.

The blond trooper just blinked at them and then shifted the baby in his arms so that it was leaning onto one shoulder, and he could lift his other hand for a salute. "Ensign Cloud Strife, reporting for, uh… duty," he said, his eyes flickering towards Sephiroth and then the infant in his arms.

"Oh, this is _rich_," Genesis said, while Sephiroth groaned again.

"Um. At ease, ensign," Angeal said, somewhere between amusement and mortification for Sephiroth's sake. "Just so that we're clear, you were transferred to this office, correct?" the blond ensign nodded while wrapping his arms more comfortably around the child again. "And you're duties are to consist of…?"

"Taking care of the, uh… child," Strife answered, looking at the infant.

"This is _perfect_," Genesis grinned, edging closer to Sephiroth. "Your kid, eh? Sephiroth, you dog."

"It's a goddamned test tube baby," Sephiroth answered without moving. He looked rather like he wanted to curl himself into a foetal position and wrap his infamous cape around him like a blanket. "I had absolutely nothing to do with it."

"Except for your genes," Genesis leered. "And how did Hojo get those, hmmm?"

"Speak another word and _die,_ Genesis."

"Okay, time out," Angeal said, stepping between Genesis and the couch to keep the situation from escalating, and looked at Strife. "So, you were assigned to… Sephiroth as, uh…" nanny was probably the best way to put it, but it didn't seem like safe word at the moment. "Why you, ensign, and not one of the lab assistants?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Strife asked at which Angeal nodded. "From what I could gather, the assistants all ran away the moment Commander Sephiroth and the professor begun their… discussion, earlier," he said. "I was walking past the laboratory with my squad. They, uh, ran away too. I was… well, I didn't run."

"Ah," Angeal said. Yes, that made more sense. "Do you know anything about taking care of children?"

The ensign glanced around the office, at Sephiroth who was sulking, at Genesis who was trying to get past Angeal to needle at the silver haired SOLDIER, and then at Angeal who was doing his best to keep the two apart. "Probably more than any of you do," the young man then said. "And definitely more than Professor Hojo does."

"Everyone on the damned Planet knows more about taking care of children than that man does," Sephiroth growled and sat up, to glare at Strife. "Which, however, is not an invitation. Can't you take the… take _it_ somewhere elsewhere?" he demanded to know.

"Like where? To my bunk which I share with seven other guys?" Strife asked, raising his eyebrows. It was rather impressive, how he didn't as much as flinch at the SOLDIER's tone of voice. Angeal had a odd feeling it had a lot to do with the kid in the ensign's arms – and maybe, just maybe, it hadn't been just that the ensign had been too slow in running away when everyone else had bolted.

Maybe what they were seeing was the rare specimen of an honest, upstanding Shinra foot solider, who was actually intending to do the right thing. Or who, it seemed, had strict morals about childcare.

"Fair point," Angeal said, clasping Sephiroth by the shoulder, to keep him from returning to his sulking or from bolting out of the office. "We'll figure this out, ensign, and you will have everything you need, sooner or later," he said and then turned to Sephiroth. "And you will have to face the fact that you've just become a father."

"Congratulations," Genesis added with a maniacal grin. "Can I be the godfather?"

x

Possibly had too much fun with this...

**This isn't a invitation to prompt me. I only do this very occasionally and_ only_ on tumblr and only when I feel like it. Which is pretty rarely.**


	8. No Plan Survives, Final Fantasy 7

Warnings: Lady Cloud being a bit ooc

_Anonymous: For Fic Meme, could you please do Cloud Genderswapped? Or Harry Genderswapped? Please_  
**No plan survives**

It was almost funny, how Cloud had always thought that, in the end, her gender would be what would keep her away from becoming a SOLDIER. She had known and accepted that, even if she had gone to all possible lengths to prevent it as long as possible, by cutting her hair and griming her face to hide it's femininity and, of course, always binding her chest and padding her waist. She had known that she'd never be SOLDIER – there were _no_ female SOLDIERs – and in the end, becoming a SOLDIER had never been the point.

Point had been to get into the army. _That_ was what she had wanted, because she had known from the first day that she'd need every advantage to make it even that far. Women troopers weren't that rare, but ones as small as she was? Well. She was under the height limit and way under the weight limit – she would've never gotten in the first place. The SOLDIER though, if you passed the entrance exam to the basic SOLDIER training, it wouldn't matter what size you were. SOLDIER _wanted_ people with different body types.

And failing to get into SOLDIER was pretty much sure way to get a one way ticket to the army.

The SOLDIER basic training didn't hurt, definitely not. No one trained harder, faster or more desperately than SOLDIER cadets. It was constant physical duress, endurance training, weight lifting, sparring, sword practice, Materia practice, work, work, work, and just what she needed to shake away the lingering softness of Nibelheim, and gain bit of muscle tone. She had embraced every bit of it, even if she had been the slowest and weakest of the bunch, because she had known then that it was as good as it was ever going to get. She wouldn't get that kind of training anywhere else, not even in the army if she'd make it.

But she had always known the whole ordeal had a time limit and that the end would be tricky. The day they'd find out about her gender, when the grime and binding and padding wouldn't be enough to disguise her, her short career as a SOLDIER cadet would come to an end. That hadn't bothered her, she was expecting it from day one. What did bother her, what worried her and kept her sleeping at night, was what would happen, when the truth would come to light.

Being under the height and weight limits was bad enough. Getting into SOLDIER basic under false pretences, fully knowing it wasn't permitted? Forget army, there was every possibility that she'd be thrown in jail.

But… she had to try. _Had to_. Not because she had something to prove, like all in her home village thought – she didn't really care what they thought of her. She didn't even want to make her mother proud – Skye Strife had cried her eyes out the day Cloud had left, she'd never be proud even if Cloud did became a soldier. No, there was no pride in the whole thing. There was only what she needed, what she wanted, what she was.

And she was _not_ like Tifa Lockhart, who spent all her free time training in martial arts and who, regardless of her sheer physical aptitude, had been slotted for an _arranged_ _marriage_ by the time Cloud had left Nibelheim. Of course in family like hers, it would never happen to Cloud, but… _god_. That was so very much not her. Neither that nor any of the other things the girls back home wanted. She would _not_ become some man's house wife, not a stay-at-home mother, not some meek backroom wall flower to be preserved. To hell with that.

To be a soldier, one sort or another, was what she _was_. To fight those who would do ill to others, and to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, _that_ was what she wanted for herself. To be strong for the sake of others, and for herself. Even if it would be as a mere trooper, she'd be fine with that, she'd be happy – she'd work hard, grow strong, do his duty, and maybe even rise in ranks. Or die in the line of duty, either one was fine, so as long as she'd get to be what she wanted to be.

"Did you really think we didn't know?" Professor Hojo asked, rather flatly, in her last physical examination as a SOLDIER cadet. "It isn't that easy to fake birth records and make them believable, and Nibelheim is quite the small town – background check was child's play. On top of that, it isn't as if you can hide something like a _gender_ in a physical examination."

"Oh," Cloud murmured, looking down to the hem of the shirt, underneath which her breasts were still tightly bound, and where gauze was wrapped around her waist in thick layers make her body a bit flatter. "Uh… if you knew, why did you…?"

"I have been meaning to expand the SOLDIER program," the Professor said, taking out a pad and writing down something to it. "The procedures have gone through some… evolution since the beginning, and I believe we can achieve a viable Mako enhancement in females as well as males." The man glanced up and raised his eyebrows. "And this seems like the time to start, as you have so graciously presented yourself to be the first – and _willing_ – test subject."

"Ah, but –"

"You signed the contract," the professor reminded her, writing something down and then putting the pad away. "There will be no _but_. There will only be science." He smiled, an extremely unpleasant expression on his bony features. "You should consider yourself lucky. If all goes well, you will be the first step in the new stage of the SOILDIER program. My, considering the advantages you have, you might even prove out to be better than all your male counterparts."

"Advantages?" Cloud asked, uneasy.

"Better equipment and quite bit more of experience on the part of the team working on you. Even Sephiroth for all his glory suffers from variety of imperfections, due to the fact that we simply did not know as much then as we do now," Hojo explained and took a syringe. "Shall we start?"

Considering how little she had ever wanted to become a part of the Mako enhancement program, the turn of events was ironic to say at least. But, perhaps… not entirely unwelcome. Considering it only for a moment, Cloud rolled up her sleeve, presenting her inner arm.

She wanted to be a soldier, one way or another. Becoming a SOLDIER… it would do.

x

Could've been fun, but don't like the ending.

**This isn't a invitation to prompt me. I only do this very occasionally and_ only_ on tumblr and only when I feel like it. Which is pretty rarely.**


	9. Switch Differences, Harry Potter and SG1

Warnings: Harry being a bit too appreciative of Teal'c's physique.

_damebubble:__Bodyswap / Stargate__  
_**Switch Differences**

"This guy is build like a _tank_," Harry murmured softly, staring at his mirror reflection. Whoever the man his mind was currently occupying was, he was build like… well, like a tank. Huge, solid, _all muscle_ tank judging by the feel of it. A dark skinned, bald headed mountain of a man, with the strangest symbol on his forehead and muscles on top of muscles. And gorgeous to the point when it became more than a little unbelievable. "How do people like this even _exist _outside telly?"

The whole _thing_ was implausible, and certainly not what he had thought he'd be signing up for when he had became an Auror. The hours were miserable, the pay wasn't anywhere near as good as he had expected, the risk of… completely mental bollocks happening was ridiculously high. Like accidentally falling into a god damned body switch portal _thing_ in the middle of a raid.

"And why this guy anyway?" Harry murmured, tilting his head this way and that. Merlin, the man's neck was a _tree trunk_. How did he _move_? Though maybe there was the reason. The guy was built like a freaking fortress – and the guy whose house Harry had been raiding had been a skinny toothpick. So maybe the guy had been looking to switch bodies with someone a bit more buff.

A bit. Yeah. Try whole lot. Freakishly high amount of _lot_.

Tilting his head a bit, Harry tucked at the shirt which fit around his borrowed torso like a second skin. Unable to help himself, he lifted it a bit – and then promptly put it down again. After a moment of frozen thought, he lifted it again – and then lowered it again as quickly, his mind frozen.

The third time, he managed to keep the cloth raised, and actually take in what he had glimpsed. There was… thing on the guy's stomach. At first it looked like the strangest sort of wound, or maybe some sort of modification – muggles did weird things to their bodies these days, tattoos and piercing being only the start of it. But it didn't feel like a scar, if anything.

"Ookay. Um. _Weird_," Harry muttered, snatching back the hand he had touched the, uh, _thing_ with. It was most definitely not a wound, or some sort of weird beautifying _thing_. Instead it was… well, he had no idea and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know either, not when it felt like, well, _that_.

Quickly smoothing the shirt down again, Harry looked at his somewhat freaked out expression – it didn't fit the guy's face at all. Weird stomachs aside, it could be worse, maybe? Yes, it could be. He could still move, still had his mobility, hadn't gone insane, or died. So, not as bad as it could be.

Just _weird_ as all hell.

After spending another moment of eying himself – or the guy whose body he had accidentally hijacked – in the mirror, he sighed and then looked around him. Tank man aside with his weird belly, he had bigger problems to consider. Like the fact that he had no idea where he was and then there was also the question of _his_ body. Was the original owner of _this_ body now in _his_? Somewhere in Wales, performing a raid on a two-bit magical scientist?

Merlin, but Harry hoped the backup he had called had came sooner rather than later, because for all that the two bit scientist had been a toothpick, he had been a terrifyingly resourceful tooth-pick and Harry was fairly fond of his own body. It might've not been a mountain like this one, but he had managed to get rid of the starved-look and even put on some muscle himself – nothing compared to this guy, but hell, bodybuilders were nothing compared to this guy. In any case, after all that wok, Harry rather wanted his body back intact.

"Okay, okay, you're an Auror, Potter, pull yourself together," Harry muttered and after another glance at the mirror, he turned away, to first inspect the room and then to see if he could find where he was. As he turned he was unfortunate – or fortunate – enough to glance at the mirror once more, catching a glimpse of the guy's back side. "Oh, Merlin, how does this guy even _exist_?" Harry muttered with an embarrassed wince and then turned away.

One day, when everything would be all right again and this would be all behind him… the memories would keep him _very_ warm at night. Weird stomach thing aside, of course. Whatever that even was.

Pushing that, and most of his other rather useless observations, Harry went to work, checking near by items for anything useful. Most of it wasn't – they were mostly some sort of weird tribal artefacts, and though Harry could appreciate the sheer quantity of candles around, they didn't help him much. There were no news papers, no photographs, nothing, and aside from the few lighting fixtures, there were no electronics either. The guy, who ever he was, had a very classy and infuriatingly unhelpful taste of décor.

Nothing to it, but to venture outside and hope there were no monsters about. Taking a breath, Harry headed to the door, and carefully opened it, peeking outside.

It probably said something very bad about his acting skills that it didn't take more than thirty steps out of the guy's rooms, before he found himself at gunpoint.

"In all my years I've known him, I've never seen T walk on tip toes," said one of the men, a guy with some grey in his hair who, like the rest, was holding him at gunpoint. They were all very militaristic, judging by the guy's accent _American_ to boot, and it seemed like the grey haired guy was in charge, for the most part.

"Uh, I can explain?" Harry asked hopefully, holding his – colossal – hands up. "Please don't shoot me?"

"That better be a damn excellent explanation. Now who the hell are you and where is Teal'c?" the grey haired man demanded, brandishing his machine gun like it was, well, a weapon.

"If Tilk's this guy, then he's probably in my body," Harry asked awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders and offering an awkward, embarrassed grin. "Would you believe that this is all a horrible mistake and I didn't mean this to happen?" the grey haired guy just stared at him, his expression not changing. "And it can probably be undone?"

"Probably?" the guy demanded.

"Best I can offer. I have no idea," Harry admitted, and then grinned as disarmingly as he could as the people around him just looked menacing. "I'm really, really sorry?"

"Okay, you're going come with us and then you're to tell us who the hell you are and how the hell you ended up in Teal'c's body, where Teal'c is and then you better hope to whoever the hell you call your god that I believe you," the grey haired man said. "Come on."

"Rude," Harry muttered, but at the very pointed looks from the men and women wielding guns, he sighed and followed.

x

"…I believe that if I have come to possess the body of HarryPotter, then he must be in possession of my body in return," Teal'c commented idly to the wild haired woman who was rabidly writing notes about everything he was saying. "However that is only if this functions in the manner I have observed such things to function in previous occasions."

"This has happened to you before?" HermioneGranger asked, in fascination.

"Indeed. The process was then achieved through a device and was reversed," Teal'c said with a nod and eyed the young woman thoughtfully. It was decisively strange to look at the world through pieces of glass – he had always known they were a necessary for DanielJackson, but he had never realised how necessary they could also be. HarryPotter had extremely poor vision, and could see things sharply through the lenses. It was as fascinating as it was inconvenient.

"You do not seem to be worried for HarryPotter. Is he not your friend?" Teal'c asked thoughtfully. At least so it had seemed, when the woman had arrived to Teal'c's holding cell, and started asking her questions.

"Oh Harry? He'll be fine. This sort of thing happens to him on daily basis – that man has the luck of the devil. Both the good and the bad – especially the bad." HermioneGranger laughed. "After so many years, I've just gotten used to it – and you said your body was in a military base? Well, he's not very likely to be able to get himself killed in a place like that."

"Perhaps," Teal'c answered. He thought it unlikely the people of SGC would fire upon his body, so it was more than likely that HarryPotter was safe in his body. As far as being engaged in battle went, at least. As for what came to the symbiote, however…

Well, he had to trust that the people of SGC could handle that too. They were familiar enough with him to know how his body functioned.

"Well, anyway, we have the device," HermioneGranger continued. "The portal needs to be re-adjusted though – it was sort of pinpointed at you or someone very much like you, if I'm reading the thing right. A great warrior – not many of those on this planet, these days. Now though, with Harry in your body and you here, it's gotten unbalanced and your body isn't a great warrior anymore."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow at that, trying not to look too worried. His body would not grow weak due to this, surely?

"Well, the spell is very specific. It locates a warrior," the woman explained. "Which Harry is not – not in the same sense. He's more of a battle-magician, than a warrior, and despite whatever your body might be capable of, Harry is not capable of using it the way you probably are. So, there fore, he is not great warrior. And, well. Neither are you, not in Harry's body," she added.

"Hm," Teal'c hummed, glancing down. HarryPotter was a very slim man, no doubt quite quick on his feet and limber in a way Teal'c himself hadn't been since his youth. But no, his was not a warrior's physique. "Then what shall happen?"

"Well, first we need to get Harry here, obviously, that'll take some time. Then I need to rework the portal to work between you two in reverse and then… hope that I got it right?" HermioneGranger offered. "It'll probably take a while, but I'm positive we can do this."

"Very well," Teal'c nodded. "I believe it would be best I joined you in retrieving HarryPotter, and my body. The SGC will most likely be more understanding, if I am there to explain the situation."

"It's not like we could do it without you anyway," HermioneGranger chuckled. "We have no idea where your SGC is anyway. Now, though, I need to get back to work. I'll try and keep you updated and hopefully we can get going, to retrieve Harry as soon as possible, but we need to sort out the crime scene first."

Teal'c nodded in understanding and then rested his hands on the table before him as the woman headed out, leaving him alone in the holding cell. Of the man things that had occurred to him in the last few years, during which he had been living on Earth… this one came quite near to being the strangest one.

Lifting one of his hands, Teal'c shifted it from side to side, and eyed the strange aura that seemed to surround HarryPotter's body. Magic, HermioneGranger had explained, which Teal'c wasn't sure how to take. The man before SGC would have believed it. Now, having learned so much of earth sciences and how many of the Goa'uld miracles were nothing but technological tricks… he didn't know what to believe.

But it was very curious indeed.

x

Hm. Probably could've done better.

**This isn't a invitation to prompt me. I only do this very occasionally and_ only_ on tumblr and only when I feel like it. Which is pretty rarely.**


End file.
